


Just A Pet

by Bunsenpai



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Alternative Universe - Villain, F/M, Light Petting, Sleep, Sugar Mommy Michi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2020-01-16 08:09:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18517405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bunsenpai/pseuds/Bunsenpai
Summary: Michiko wants a lap pet. Nhaza'a will have to do.





	Just A Pet

Nhaza’a lets out a deep sigh of contentment. His hand keeps the towel wrapped around his waist as he strolls across the room to pick up a fresh pair of pants. The hot shower has nothing on the hot springs in Kugane, but it’ll do for now. Especially when that damned Warrior of Light keeps popping up every time things start going his way.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spies a figure draped in vivid blue. An all too familiar blue.

Spread out on his couch under the window was his ‘mistress’. Her back resting against the plush pillows, her legs and tail curled up underneath her and allowing for the rest of the dress to pool off the seat and onto the ground. A luxurious image of casualness that allows her to fit right in with the fine detailing of the room.

“Don’t you have others to torture, princess? Like that puppy of yours?” Nhaza’a allows the towel to drop, leaving himself completely bare to her as he pulls on his smallclothes and pants. She didn’t even flinch. He catches her looking at him over her shoulder, eyes as cold as ever. Yet there’s a strange, alluring light in her as they analyze him. He’s grown used to the way she looks at him, like a bug beneath her feet.

“Is that really how to greet your host?” Her words came out in a sultry tone, almost purring. A well-manicured hand beckons him to stand in front of her. He can’t do anything but follow her command. He circles around the couch and slips between the low table to standing cautiously before her. His tail slowly flickers back and forth, arms crossed over his chest. Michiko isn’t best known for her stability; he needs to be ready. “Amex is resting. So, I wanted to see how my kitty is doing.”

She grasps his forearm and tugs him with a surprisingly strong grip, forcing him to sit in the pool of silk with his back towards her. The silk felt cool to the touch and glided across his skin as she moved to accommodate him. Within seconds, Michiko was running her hand through his blond hair as he nestled comfortably on her lap. Afternoon light pours in from the window behind her, warming the room and her back.

Shielded away from the sun, he starts to slip in and out of consciousness. The soft hand stroking his ear, the warm and as equally soft lap underneath him. Nhaza’a fought to resist purring. Through grinding teeth, he hisses, “I’m not your pet.”

“Really? I house you.” Her hand slips away from his hair, tracing down his chin and neck.

“I heal you.” Nails scratch the new scar across his chest, the lingering ache still flows through his veins.

“I clean and clothe you.” She leans over, whispering into his ear. A shiver runs up his spine.

“I even feed you.” The scent of lavender and vanilla tickle his nose like her hair. Her arms loosely hook around his neck, the undeniable press of her soft chest against the back of his head. Her own head resting on top of his own. He couldn’t help but take in a sniff, feeling the tension in his muscles start to fade.

He hates her. He hates this Seeker named Michiko Dhol. The wench that somehow managed to clamber her way up the ranks. She gets to sit her pretty little ass around and be waited on hand and foot, while he’s traveled the realm. He’s won battle after battle, always triumphing over any foe facing him. No one has cut him down. No one had ever defeated him.

Yet here is he is being lulled into submission and sleep by gentle touches and equally sweet scents. Seven Hells, she smells and feels too good. Nhaza’a attempts to shake the sleep from his eyes, forcing himself to focus on the details of the room to keep himself awake. Every time her hands would come back to draw him back into the comforts of sleep again. Deeper. And deeper. Until he slips into peaceful rest in her arms, with nary a complaint on his lips.

Nhaza’a woke up hours later. At least from what he could tell. The little seeker always seems to have a strange disdain for clocks. The room was completely enveloped in darkness, with just a dim lamp sitting on the table and the incense pot beside it. He has no intentions of asking how he ended up laying on the couch nor where the blanket came from.

He kicks off the blanket that he was tucked into, forcing himself off the pillow that felt strange to sleep on. The window hasn’t been covered up, the stars were scattered across the night sky as if to mirror the colored lights of the city below. Not a bad view.

It took little time to get dressed, his regular clothes were hand cleaned, dried, and folded just where she had always had them placed. A goblet of fine wine and tray of warm food right next to it. Even as he slips out the door, the smell of lavender and vanilla still lingers in his nose, in his hair, on his skin. No amount of scrubbing would get the phantom smell out of his head.

Then again. That is what she wants.


End file.
